Elfsorrow Part 23

Erienne knelt by the bedside and Denser pulled the shroud gently from the body, folding it back to expose his head and bare chest. In the flickering light, Erienne could make out a young, angular face. No bruising was evident on the dark skin.

She placed her hands on his chest, hearing a hiss of indrawn breath from Kild'aar. The skin was cold, hard and waxy. She ignored the unpleasant sensation and tuned herself to the mana spectrum, directing a sheet of mana across the body slowly from head to toe, her fingers picking up everything it touched and penetrated.

Almost immediately she felt a surge of nausea, like gulping rancid air. She fought to keep her concentration, focussing hard on her task, driving her mind to a.n.a.lyse what the mana stream fed back to her. The construct she was using borrowed heavily from the Body-Cast spell, but Mercuun couldn't have been saved even by this most powerful healer casting. It could knit bone, repair muscle and organ, stop bleeding and soothe bruising. But it couldn't reverse rot and decay.

She withdrew from Mercuun's body, nodding at Denser to replace the shroud. For a moment she remained on her knees, rubbing her hands slowly down the top of her thighs. She breathed deeply to clear her head of the fetid sensations she'd experienced and returned her mind to its normal state.

'All right, love?' asked Denser, squatting down beside her and stroking her cheek.

'Yes,' she said, and looked across at Ren. 'I need to know some things. Ask her how long he's been dead.'

Ren nodded and asked the question.

'Two days,' she relayed. 'They are waiting for Rebraal before they commit his body to the forest.'

Erienne shuddered. 'So recent?' She spared Denser an anxious glance. 'Ask her if his bone breaks were tended to.'

'They were,' came the delayed reply. 'They could be treated and they responded. Still he died.'

'That's because they weren't the problem,' said Erienne grimly. 'What else do they know?'

'Nothing,' translated Ren. 'He never regained consciousness.'

'And what about the others who are sick?' Erienne got to her feet, helped by Denser.

There was a longer delay, Ren listening to what she was hearing with a frown deepening on her beautiful features. She asked a couple of questions then took a deep breath and turned to Erienne.

'It sounds horrible,' she said. 'Loss of balance, bleeding from ears, nose and a.n.u.s, grinding pain in the gut and chest, loss of vision and hearing, muscle weakness and the clawing of hands and feet. I think there's probably more but that covers the most common symptoms. The worst thing is, nothing seems to reverse or even ease the symptoms, and death has occurred in as little as four days. No one has survived yet.'

'I'm not surprised,' said Erienne. 'How many are suffering at the moment?'

'A hundred and thirty-three.'

'Oh no,' said Erienne, putting a hand over her mouth, the size of the problem sending her reeling inside. 'No wonder she's been so hostile.'

Erienne walked up to Kild'aar and gripped her folded arms with both hands. She saw a pleading in the elf's eyes behind the stern mask, a barely repressed fear born of a lack of any answer.

'I'm sorry, Kild'aar,' said Erienne. 'But I need you to show me one of those still alive.'

Kild'aar nodded but didn't understand her words, only her expression and the emotion in her voice. Ren translated Erienne's words and was asked another question.

'She wants to know what you found.'

Erienne bit her lip. 'He was rotten inside,' she said as calmly as she could, recalling the feelings of decay and disease that had pervaded her so strongly. 'All his organs just so much mush inside his body, some of them barely recognisable. His brain was the same. His bones were brittle, no calcium, like he was an elf hundreds of years older than he was. I've never seen anything like it. Outwardly, he was fine. On the inside, like he'd been dead for weeks. But I need to see a live patient. Someone I can talk to. Quickly.'

Ren was momentarily dumbfounded by Erienne's description. She pulled herself together but shivered as she related the awful symptoms to Kild'aar, who gasped as Mercuun's fate was relayed to her. She looked across at Erienne, all the anger replaced with shock and sadness. She spoke a few words.

'Kild'aar asks if there is anything you can do.'

Erienne shrugged uselessly. 'I don't know. I hope so but I don't know. I've never encountered anything like this.'

Kild'aar didn't need her words translated. Beckoning them, she made to leave the room, only to stop at the sound of the door opposite opening. Leaning on the frame for support, a half-naked elf shambled out of the room and across the narrow hallway. His right hand was clamped over his left shoulder and his brow was furrowed and covered in a light sweat. His eyes burned as he took in Erienne and Denser, sparing Ren a brief glance before focussing on Kild'aar and launching into a stream of invective.

Erienne moved reflexively back until she felt Denser behind her, watching Kild'aar stretch to touch the wounded elf and having her hand slapped away. She responded to his words, her voice calming, but this only inspired him to shout, nodding into the room, his neck straining with his anger. Erienne felt her heart beating fast, the vehemence of the verbal onslaught shocking. She reached out and found Denser's hand.

The elf wasn't letting up. Whatever Kild'aar said, it wasn't mollifying him. Ren was following the argument. Again and again she looked about to jump in but something she heard stayed her. The noise in the room was intensifying, Kild'aar shouting now. In the end, Ren did finish it. Erienne saw the young elf clench both her fists, step firmly between the two combatants and yell directly into the wounded elf's face. The shock of the intercession stopped him and he glared at Ren with interest. Seizing her chance, Ren spoke, her tone firm but calm. She pointed behind her at Mercuun, at Erienne, and out past the elf to the front door. The only word Erienne picked up was 'Ilkar', but whatever Ren said had instant effect.

The elf nodded, spoke two words and Ren moved aside. He walked slowly into the room, Kild'aar next to him, an arm about his back. He pulled the shroud aside and gazed down at Mercuun, Erienne seeing his shoulders hunch and fall. He whispered words of prayer, knelt very awkwardly and placed his left hand on Mercuun's forehead, bowing. He was silent for a time, lost in contemplation or memory.

Denser nudged Erienne and whispered.

'Looks like a tanned version of Ilkar, doesn't he?'

'There's some resemblance,' agreed Erienne.

'So there should be,' said Ren quietly from beside them. 'That's Rebraal, Ilkar's brother.'

At the sound of his name, Rebraal pushed himself slowly and painfully back to his feet and turned to Erienne and Denser. The anger was gone from his face and Erienne was surprised to see fear in his eyes. He spoke and Ren translated.

'He says he has to go back to the temple. It must be returned to the hands of the Al-Arynaar. He's leaving at dawn tomorrow.'

'Tell him we'll be with him,' said Denser.

The mage tensed as Rebraal snorted in derision at Ren's translation. Erienne put a hand on his arm to calm him.

'Going to do it on his own, is he?' asked Denser.

Rebraal snapped out some words. Ren held up her hands, replied and got a terse one-word answer.

'He's going to kill strangers. Why would he want more there?'

'My question still stands,' said Denser.

'His brother Al-Arynaar will join him in a few days. He hopes it will be soon enough,' said Ren.

'And if it isn't? He's left the best chance he's got here mopping sick brows. Put this to him. We're coming. We can help, and whatever it is that's got him so scared will be solved that much more quickly.'

Another short elven conversation.

'He says the forest will kill you.'

'I know I speak for us all when I say this. We want to help. We have to get mages back to Balaia quickly so anything we can do to speed that, to get the elves to trust us, we will do. And does he really have a choice? Right now, we're all he's got and, G.o.ds burning, one of us is his brother.'

Erienne could feel the pa.s.sion in Denser. It was a belief she knew well. She only hoped Rebraal saw it too. She watched Ren talk to him, saw him respond while looking over her shoulder at Denser. He shrugged, his expression hardened but he nodded.

'So we're all right by him now, are we?' Denser was terse.

'No,' said Ren. 'You're here, that's all. The Raven. He knows that he needs all the help he can get. Ilkar is the key. Without him, you would not be allowed to travel with him.'

Erienne felt a crawling sensation across her chest. 'Just what is it that's so wrong he thinks us worth risking?'

'Rebraal knows what's causing this. He's studied the texts at the temple. He's dedicated his life to preserving the harmony.'

'And?' pushed Denser.

'Rebraal says the harmony has been broken. That the strangers who took the temple have done it, but he doesn't know how. That's why we have to go there. Because you can't cure this sickness with magic or herbs, and unless harmony is restored the elves will die.'

Erienne frowned. 'Which elves?'

'All of us.'

Aeb was unsettled. Protectors were used to being alone, travelling with their Given Xeteskian mage. But in times of conflict the Soul Tank, deep in the catacombs of Xetesk, was always troubled. The souls of those Protectors who could not be physically together communicated their thoughts and their fears for one another. Aeb had been hearing much and the anxiety was rising.

Aeb's position was unique. Officially he was the Given of Denser, the Dawnthief mage. A high honour in itself. But in reality he was more the defender of Sol, The Unknown Warrior, the only man to have been a Protector and returned from the calling, his soul repatriated to his body.

If Protectors could genuinely feel pride, then Aeb would have been proud. But it didn't change the fact that he could hear the agitation of the souls of his brothers in his head. They weren't scared. They were bred to fight and defend. But when they were split they were inevitably weakened, and so anxiety filtered across the Soul Tank.

Aeb had been sitting silent in his room, having bathed his face and let the air play across his maskless features in the dark, calming those he could and listening to the thoughts of others. But now, with the voices still whispering in his head - he could never shut them out and would never want to - he strapped the mask back over his face, ignoring the discomfort, and went to find Sol.

The Unknown Warrior was standing alone but turned when the Protector approached.

'Aeb,' said The Unknown, nodding to him.

Aeb could see immediately that he could sense something. It had been a mystery long cherished in the Soul Tank. How Sol, with his soul in his body and not in contact with his Protector brothers any more, could still sense them all and pick up on feelings, though not fully grasp them. It gave them hope that should they ever be released from thrall they would still be joined in some indelible way. It was what they prayed for.

'I apologise for disturbing you.'

The Unknown shook his head. 'You are still close to me,' he said. 'And something's worried you. You should be at rest.'

'Yes.'

'Then speak freely. Denser has granted you that freedom gladly.'

'It is still difficult,' he said. 'All these years . . .'

'You've heard something in the Soul Tank,' guessed The Unknown.

'Yes,' said Aeb. 'It is not information I can volunteer, Sol. You know the strictures of the calling.'

'But you cannot knowingly lie to a direct question from your Given,' said Denser, joining them. 'Sorry to overhear.'

Aeb swung to face the mage.

'So ask,' said The Unknown.

'Aeb, take The Unknown's questions as coming from me. Answer us both,' said Denser.

'Yes.'

Denser looked across at The Unknown to speak.

'The Protectors are engaged in combat?'

'Yes.'

'Where?'

'Arlen.'

'And Xetesk are in control of the town?'

'Yes.'

'How far have the Dordovan forces been pushed back?'

'They have been eliminated.'

'What?' The Unknown gaped and looked across at Denser.

'Were they given the option of surrender?' asked the mage.

'No.'

'And the Protectors were ordered to kill them all?'

'All that survived the magical attack. Cavalry were despatched to deal with outlying forces.'

The Unknown and Denser exchanged another glance. Aeb was comforted by it, seeing in their expressions a reflection of his own unease. He would relay this to his brothers later.

'Describe the spell and its effect,' ordered Denser.

Aeb paused, consulting with the Soul Tank.

'A cooperative FlameOrb. Mages called it a FireGlobe. Large area effect. It destroyed the north-western quarter of Arlen. At its splash point, the heat is still too great to bear, even after a day.'

The Unknown cursed. 'They're clearing a path,' he said. 'And riding roughshod over the rules of engagement. It'll escalate the conflict.'

'Clearing a path for who?' asked Denser.

'The mage researchers and my brothers on Herendeneth,' said Aeb immediately. 'They will return to Balaia soon.'

'So,' said Denser, staring at The Unknown. 'Which of us gets to tell Hirad that Xetesk has no intention of helping his dragons?'

The Unknown raised his eyebrows and walked back into the house.